What to do on Laba?

Today, I ate dumplings, climbed a mountain, and pickled Laba garlic.

The mountain was named “Sengguan” (Monk’s Cap) by Emperor Qianlong. Although it doesn’t look like a cap from afar, with the name in mind, it somewhat resembles one. The path up the mountain was quite wild, but fortunately, there were enthusiastic locals to guide us. We fumbled our way up to a fire access road halfway up the mountain (which was essentially just a flatter dirt road that cars could drive on). Along the way, I chatted with my grandpa on and off, and bickered with my younger brother on and off. It’s truly amazing that I didn’t drink a single sip of water during this process.

The dumplings were made by Grandma, filled with chives. Eating dumplings on Laba is a Northern custom, I suppose, but then again, it seems Northerners can eat dumplings at any time, which might explain why the “wrapping dumplings” trope is so widespread (is there a connection?). Yesterday, when I was helping out, I tried wrapping a few, but it seemed like there wouldn’t be enough dough, so Grandma had to take over… Speaking of which, Grandma’s dumpling-wrapping technique has changed from the meticulousness I remember from my childhood to prioritizing efficiency. Although I thought it wouldn’t make a difference once eaten, it just feels different somehow.

We pickled Laba garlic with Grandma and my younger brother. Although I don’t eat garlic or drink vinegar, I still enjoyed peeling the garlic. While peeling, we played “Feihualing,” with my brother giving out words as usual, and Grandma and I taking turns reciting poems. It almost felt like we were back to the time when I slept on the top bunk and they slept on the bottom, that “flourishing prime, scholarly spirit, and boundless ambition” then.

“After Laba, it’s New Year.” Everything in the future remains unknown, but the New Year will always arrive.